Chapter 10: Chapter 10: 2-2 Antebellum
Antebellum 2.2
2000, June 5: Phoenix, AZ, USA
Before I could get to my lab, I was stopped by Redbird. Every time I met him, I was surprised by just how far he towered over me. The man had to be nearly seven feet tall, or maybe he just looked that tall since I barely hit four-two.
"Hey, Rubedo," he called tiredly. "How's it going?"
"Pretty good, Redbird," I replied with a polite bow. "I just got off a run. I'm still really slow, but I'll get there."
"I know you will," he said in his way that was both indulging yet not patronizing. I still didn't know his name, too much of a security risk to just let a bunch of kids know Protectorate identities, but he had an easy grin about him.
"How about you, Redbird? How are things?"
He knew what I was really asking. "Things aren't too bad out there, Rubedo. Your potions have already saved lives from what I've heard. Team One's set up out north so we're a bit far from the battles breaking out."
"Is that a good thing?" I asked with a raised brow. "You don't look like the kind of man who likes sitting around."
"I don't," he let out an aggressive sigh. "If I had my way, I'd be up there supporting Oathkeeper. But yeah, it's a good thing. Royalle's a terrible matchup for Dos Caras, but me and Echo? We could help. That we haven't been reassigned to Oathkeeper means things aren't desperate enough to start mixing teams around. That's a good thing." He seemed to be telling himself that as much as he was talking to me. "But you let us worry about the gangs. You've got a meeting with the boss."
"Director Lyons or Royalle?"
"Director Lyons."
I didn't miss the slight scowl on his face at the mention of his team leader. "Go on up."
"Will do. Thanks." I bowed.
"None of that. We're colleagues now, my little friend. Powers are all expressions of the spirit and it doesn't do your spirit any good to be so wound up all the time."
I nodded agreeably. "Sure, thank you, Redbird."
The man walked off, leaving me contemplative. It was certainly an interesting take on powers. With so few people understanding the mechanics in this world, he was hardly the first to claim some spiritual or mystical origin. Hell, he might even be right. In canon, there was Haven, the team centered around Christianity. I found out during my readings that they were actually the second iteration of a similar attempt called the Stars of Bethlehem. And of course, there were whispers of religious extremists who worshipped the endbringers. The Fallen weren't quite an organized institution yet, but I knew they would be soon enough.
That was just in America. China saw the rebirth of esoteric martial arts and Taoism while warrior sages claiming Buddhist enlightenment wandered Tibet and Nepal, fighting the Chinese Union-Imperial in the name of political and religious freedom. I unfortunately knew how that contest would end. There were dozens of capes named after Greek, Egyptian, or Roman gods in the Mediterranean and the near-Middle East; who knew how many believed they were avatars or descendants or whatever? And in much of rural Africa? Tribal ancestral and shamanistic worship had always held strong. I couldn't imagine that declining now that shamans might literally have superpowers.
'I wonder what Redbird really believes,' I mused as I knocked on the director's office. 'Is he religious or just spiritual? Does that make him more or less conflict-prone?'
"Come in, Rubedo," Director Lyons said.
I pushed the door open and bowed. "Hello, director," I said. "How did you know?"
"Besides that I called for you? There is a camera with a view of the hall I can tap into. Take a seat, and try not to drip over my chair too much."
"Yes, ma'am. I just got out of the shower." I tied my towel loosely around my neck.
"I can see that. How are you liking things so far?"
"I see the necessity of console and PR training, but find them tedious," I said honestly. "I appreciate physical conditioning and the first aid course as I feel more tangible improvements."
"So you've said, but you do need those lessons anyway."
"I understand."
"Do you know why you're here?"
"No, ma'am. I was going to put in some procurement orders to try and make something new, but I don't think you read minds."
"That'd make my life a lot easier, but no," she said with a wry smile. "To put it simply, people aren't happy with your health potions."
"In my defense, ma'am, I did give them a detailed list of what they can and cannot fix."
"You did and that's not why. You see, there is a law called the NEPEA-5 and it makes parahuman involvement in markets difficult. I mentioned it to you before."
I nodded. "I'm familiar with the law, director."
"You are?"
"Yes, I read up on it when you last mentioned it. It's sometimes mockingly called the 'Elite Bill.' I was under the impression that since I am a federal employee, under eighteen, and producing medicines, it doesn't apply to me. Surely there are some exceptions in place?"
She sighed and ran a hand down her face. "In a perfect world, it wouldn't. Most are grateful, but there is a vocal minority who are trying to claim that your potions will disturb the market."
'Of course. Fucking Earth-Bet,' I thought, rolling my eyes. "Is it the pharmaceutical companies or hospitals who are upset with me?"
"Both. As you know, we work with the Banner University Medical Center, the largest hospital in Phoenix. We chose them because they happen to have one of the better organized and staffed emergency rooms. However, other hospitals in the area are claiming that your potions represent an unfair advantage, as are pharmaceutical companies."
"That… is disgusting."
"I agree, and I suspect they'll be shot down by any federal judge, but it will go to court."
I processed that for a moment. "Wait, I'm being sued?"
"No, we are. A civil suit has been filed against the Phoenix PRT."
"I made literally less than a hundred bottles!" I raged.
"It's not about what you've made. They're afraid of what you represent."
I shook my head. "I'm not a PR wiz or anything, but this would kill their reputation. Suing a Ward with medical tech because… the potions decrease the number of patients they can charge? And this in the middle of a gang war?"
"It would, but that's not important. And the gangs have been surprisingly subdued since SSM's initial strike. They've filed a court order and until this is resolved, you cannot produce potions for use by hospitals and that could take months. If I had to guess, they're doing this because they intend to rearrange their business in the meantime. Restructure so things like emergency bandages, anesthetics, and other products used in trauma centers take up less of their product pipelines. Either that, or the executives are taking the chance to jump ship off the stock. It's a bit above your head, but it's possible to make a company nosedive while still reaping a profit."
"They're buying time. But do they know that I can't mass produce these potions? I can't possibly affect an entire section of the medical field, can I?"
"Probably not, not at the pace you're going," the director said. "But they don't know that. Tinkers like Hero can only produce enough tech for themselves, maybe a few more people. You seem to be able to manufacture enough potions for dozens. Given how new you are, they're betting that your production rate will rise significantly if left unchecked."
"Idiots. So what happens now?"
"Now? We blast them over their PR suicide and make them pay for every second of this mess."
"The NEPEA-5 has to have exceptions, right?" I tried again. "It can't be completely blank."
"No, no it does not. At least, none that apply to you specifically. It was only passed recently after all. There are too many kinks to be worked out. There are some thinkers who are employed by the Federal Reserve, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and similar to monitor the markets and they are exceptions to the 'no influencing the market' rule for obvious reasons."
"The joy of being the first medical tinker?"
"Indeed. They don't expect to win, not in the long term. This is the kind of case that catches national attention and eventually, it will head to a big enough court that Congress will take notice and add addendums to the law."
"But they don't need to win, just buy time. What happens to me then? Will I be expected to show up to court?"
"No, you will not. This is a job for our lawyers and PR department. As for you…" Director Lyons dug into a cabinet and pulled out several sheets of paper. "Well, you did say you wanted procurement forms. You'll still be making those potions, you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am. Even if we can't distribute to hospitals, they can still be used by our own, right?"
"Good. Now, what else did you need?"
"I'm already here so I may as well," I shrugged. "I have four requests, but they might be… tricky."
"Go on."
"Night phlox flowers. They're also called 'night candies' sometimes. Any strain will do, but they're native to South Africa."
"Africa. You want flowers. From Africa." She shook her head in exasperation. "You're quickly turning out to be the most troublesome of my Wards."
"Apologies, director. If it makes you feel better, I'm sure they can be found in local stores. Native isn't the same as exclusive after all."
"No, it's fine, but I'm going to need to know what could possibly justify that."
"I need a bunch to make something called Shimmer."
"Which is?"
I winced. "Don't freak out?"
"That's not encouraging to hear."
"Okay, so Shimmer by itself is a very powerful regenerative draught, as effective as a health potion, but it works differently so the two effects can stack. It can even give someone superhuman abilities for a short time, strength, speed, the whole package, while the potion is still in their system."
"That sounds wonderful. So what's the downside?"
"It makes you… mentally unstable?"
"Rubedo," she said warningly. "You will not make narcotics with your tinkering budget."
"Ehehehe… brand new sentence?"
"Rubedo."
"Hear me out, ma'am. If you overdose, yeah, it'll make you bonkers, but that's basically true of every drug. In smaller doses, it can supplement the health potion I have now, even regenerating limbs if administered in controlled doses over a long time. Hell, if you stick to just a drop or two, it'd even double as a painkiller."
"I'll… consider it…" she said flatly, taking all but three of the procurement forms away. "I'm willing to give you a lot of freedom, but a psychoactive drug is going to be an automatic no without a lot of oversight. This might change when you are fully a member of the Protectorate, but as a Ward, I just can't authorize something like that."
I sighed. It wasn't unexpected. "Okay, but the others?"
"Tell me about the others. We'll fill these forms out together. Just in case."
"How do you feel about black widow and cobra venom?"
The deadpan stare could make even the Kindred nervous. "No."
"You haven't even let me finish." I whined. I'm eight. I'm allowed to whine.
"Against my better judgment… what do you need highly toxic poisons for?"
"Actually, a poison and a venom are very different in appli-" I saw the tired look on her face and decided that caution was the better part of valor. "Okay, fine. I want the venoms so I can refine them into extremely potent versions of themselves." Two women, as enchanting as they were terrifying, came to mind. I wouldn't be able to manufacture Vilemaw's poison, that thing was practically a god, but the venom of a mere spiderling? The noxious mist used by Cassiopeia? Those shouldn't be too far outside my abilities.
The incredulous look on her face was priceless. "You… want to make something… even deadlier than black widow venom… And you think I'd let you?"
"You didn't let me finish. I want to make a super-deadly venom because I can then refine that into a universal antivenom. You know, a venom that attacks all the impurities inside the body instead of the body itself. It'd be another easy way for me to contribute without leaving my lab."
"That does sound useful… I'll have to think about it. And the last thing you need?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous. Or addictive. Or hard to get. It's less than two hours' drive."
"But you saved it for last because…?"
"Imayormaynotneedtocutdownanationalforest," I rambled out.
"One more time, Rubedo."
"I need trees. The species doesn't matter, but the age does. I need fossilized trees and the best way for me to find them is to take them from the Petrified Forest National Park. It's like two hours away but… you know… national park."
"I don't have the authority to cut down a national forest for you," she said dryly.
"I know, I know. Could you kick it up the chain? Maybe have Director Costa-Brown bring it up as a possibility?"
"Believe it or not, I don't have tea with the head of the PRT every week. What do you even want with that stuff? And how is a fossilized tree different from any other tree? Or rock for that matter?"
"It just is," I huffed out, a little annoyed myself. This meeting was taking far longer than either of us expected. "And I think I can use it to make Petricite. Yeah, that's what I'm calling it. Basically, it is something that absorbs ambient energy and I think that it can be used to make handcuffs that can keep people from using powers."
"I thought you were a potions tinker?"
"Alchemy," I corrected, "which is a lot more than just fancy drugs. And besides, it's not like handcuffs are mechanically complex or anything. The handcuffs would seal away all external expressions of powers like fire breath or something, but someone whose powers are internal or isolated to just their bodies would be fine like brutes or people with flight. Although… I should be able to make a Petricite Elixir that seals all powers as long as it's in their system…"
"How sure are you that this will work?"
I shrugged. "Maybe… seventy percent? It might react differently with different powers."
I was taking a big risk asking for this, but I decided that the gamble was worth it. In the end, it came down to one question: Does a Shard's dimensional fuckery have any basis in magic? What convinced me was the impossibility of powers like Shaper's. An archive of biological knowledge was one thing, but spatial manipulation did not in itself account for such radical changes in biology, not unless Amy wasn't really fixing biology as much as replacing cells with parallel dimension counterparts. And she wasn't. That much, I was certain of.
Ergo, Shards must be able to use mana even if they themselves lack an ability to quantify or perceive it. If they weren't using mana consciously, I had a hypothesis that they were somehow drawing mana from their host, however limited that may be. After all, I knew for a fact that souls existed.
What little I knew of the origin of Runeterra's universe and the nature of the soul supported my hypothesis. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough for me to take a shot at it.
"I'll see what I can do," the director said. "I should be able to get you a small branch or something. Deputy Director Irish might have a better idea of how to go about this; he used to be a ranger."
"Yeah, that'd be great, director. Thank you very much."
"Good, that'll be all, Rubedo." As I stood to leave, she called me back. "Rubedo, one last thing. I've approved each Ward and Protectorate to carry one Elixir of Iron and a health potion for emergencies."
"Thank you, ma'am."
X
That night, my thoughts wandered to the Illuminati of Earth-Bet: Cauldron. What would the boogey-lady herself want from me? Did me getting sued have anything to do with her Path? Was I even a visible variable on the Path? Or did the World Rune protect me in any way?
That last one, I knew was false. The World Rune was Inspiration, an idea made manifest. It wouldn't protect me from anything unless I made something that could. That left the question: How would Contessa react to this case and how could I influence her? No, that very notion was arrogant. Still…
It may be laughable to think about, an eight year old manipulating Contessa, but she wasn't omniscient, nor was she a mind reader. She didn't know about a variable until it became relevant to the Path, and only knew about that variable inasmuch as it was relevant to the Path. In fact, until quite recently, she probably didn't even know I existed and would have been briefed only when Alexandria mentioned a medical tinker.
I finished up my meditations for the night and set down the Mana Crystal in a box in the closet. Not very secure, but having an actual safe in a low-class apartment like mine would stand out.
Right now, I could comfortably say that I was a Cauldron asset. They wouldn't throw me away until 2005 at minimum, when Riley became Bonesaw. Even then, I'd definitely be much more mentally stable. There were medical capes, but few with my versatility or ability to stockpile treatments, certainly none able to grant powers.
'Assuming the patron saintess of dandy hats doesn't actively want me dead… how can I leverage this? How can I make sure she protects me, unwittingly or not?'
The answer was simple: I needed to be so goddamn valuable as to be irreplaceable.
Cauldron's goals were threefold: First, kill Scion with minimal casualties. Second, in support of the first, preserve as many powerful capes as possible for the final fight. Third, establish a foundation for a post-Scion world. Brockton Bay was their experiment towards the latter, a petri dish exploring the effects of cape feudalism.
If I wanted to be irreplaceable, I needed to be someone with tech that could help them in one of their goals. The first would be impossible unless I could gain the help of a celestial. Visions of the Star Forger threatened to scorch my eyes but I pushed them down. The third was too nebulous and impossible to quantify from outside their organization. The second though…
'Could I become irreplaceable using healing tech and Petricite? How many capes' survival would I have to ensure for Contessa's Path to decide I'm more valuable to them alive and in good health?' That made me pause. 'Wait… is this why I'm being sued? I wouldn't have this train of thought if I didn't think I'd caught their attention. I wouldn't have thought that, at least not this soon, if I hadn't received a lawsuit sure to make national news.
'Okay, let's assume Contessa is using the lawsuit. Why? To refine and restrict the NEPEA-5? No, she doesn't actually care about it. Or if she does, it's too nuanced for me to tell without Path to Victory on my side. She surely could have written any exceptions into the law as she damn well pleased when it was first being drafted. To make me produce powers in a bottle exclusively? Maybe, but then that means she intends to make sure the PRT loses this case, forcing me to deviate from health potions to something else. Why weaken her own puppet organization? To make me famous in my own right? Possible. That would tie me closer to the PRT, right?
'Or maybe, she wants the PRT to gain more influence by winning this case. Simultaneously, she's trying to nudge me towards powers creation by using this case and a burgeoning gang war. Did… Did Phoenix just become a petri dish for my own not-Cauldron vials? At the very least, she can't make the gang war flare up too violently, or I might get caught into the thick of things instead of staying on the sidelines and remaining her potions-mule. Right?'
I threw myself down onto my bed, possibilities upon possibilities swirling in my mind like a Freljordian blizzard. It was impossible to predict Contessa. I probably understood Path to Victory better than she herself did. At the very least, I had insights she lacked. Even so, I could conceive of any number of ways the next few weeks could go and the best thing I could think of was to simply be the best damn Ward I could be.
"Fuck thinkers," I mumbled as I allowed sleep to take me.
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